


The Wisest Course

by Mizzy



Series: Spideytorch [7]
Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Identity Porn, Lies, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mistaken Identity, Spideytorch Week 2016, Spideytorch Week Day 3 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6043294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has a Mysterio-related problem. Johnny has a cuddle problem. Peter is a liar. Johnny is living in his web of lies. </p><p>(AKA The "Johnny mistakes Peter for his cuddle therapist" AU that you know you always wanted.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wisest Course

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks for Traincat for helping me plot this one and coming up with at least 50% of the best moments. <3

* * *

Part 1

_Peter_

* * *

"You can run," Mysterio cackles, "Spider-Man! You can run but you can't hide!"

Peter squints, grateful for a moment that his mask is still intact and Mysterio can't see his judgmental smirk, because villains tended to get annoyingly pissy if you mocked them. And this one's had enough of Peter already, judging by the amount of his suit that has currently disintegrated into dust.

Thankfully whatever chemical Mysterio's sprayed him with this time just works on fibres and not on human skin.

Un-thankfully, if Peter doesn't skedaddle and fast, his secret identity will be a little less secret. The partial-nudity in public is bad enough. Thank goodness he _is_ the Bugle's only Spider-Man photographer.

Whatever Mysterio's cooked up, though, is eating through his suit and moving _fast._ Peter yelps and looks around for options. There's no guarantee that his webbing will work, not with Mysterio's mysterious chemical doing its thing. Peter needs somewhere to hide. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that Mysterio can't get into, but Peter can.

The Baxter building swings into Peter's vision as he flees and it's _perfect._ Peter's broken in before. The security is crazy and Peter keeps an eye on it because Reed is a genius and Peter's not above borrowing ideas to keep his own people safe - he's got a few of Reed's best tricks covering Aunt May's house and MJ's apartment. His own apartment is mostly unprotected, mainly because he has nothing in there worth stealing.

What Peter does have worth stealing is his camera (which he usually keeps in places only a web-swinging superhero could even reach), his suit (which is slowly dissolving) and, well, his dignity. Which is currently dissolving along with his suit.

Peter can feel the material covering his butt start to rustle and break apart, and Peter speeds up, ducking and dodging between buildings, using his spider-senses to avoid Mysterio's current vehicle of choice, some sort of Green Goblin-inspired flying boogie-board. Sigh. Villains were so uncool sometimes.

Unfortunately for Peter's prior knowledge of the Baxter building, he has to enter it on an unfamiliar side, but at least he gets in through a Central Air vent before Mysterio sees him, moments before the material of his suit completely disappears on his lower half. Oh, wow, metal on his skin is not a pleasant experience. Peter flushes and sheds the rest of his suit — if he's seen he'd rather be embarrassed as himself than as Spider-Man — and keeps hold of the webshooters just in case. Although the webfluid is definitely compromised, the shooters themselves are fine.

Reed Richards' security is crazy, but Peter's used to at least the first three things he encounters — a run of laser beams that Peter can twist to avoid, a flying sensor that Peter can reprogram, and a pattern of pressure pads that Peter's spider-senses point out. A crunch point comes when he gets to a hub and is forced with a choice — continue sneaking on and trying to get to the core, where he knows he can drop into Reed's lair and steal one of the spare lab coats he knows the genius keeps on in the closet there for his interns, or jump out now and just hope for the best. The trouble being, he knows exactly what the core security is like, and without his webshooters, his chance of getting through it… It's not great.

Nope, he's going to have to risk the part of the Baxter building he's not familiar with at all. He sighs, but jumps out of the nearest vent and lands in a crouch, feeling out with his senses to see if there are any of Reed's most annoying randomly flying sensors.

At first Peter thinks he's been lucky for once, but Parker luck is never that good -- it's not very loud, but his senses help him hear it: a flying sensor and a large one too, coming in his direction. Peter glances around and panics, because it's an empty hallway except for a couple of doors spaced far apart. He dashes forwards, and the first one is locked, and Peter's senses tell him the next door is a better shot, even though he doesn't need his spider-senses to hear that the sensor's getting closer. He runs to the next door and it's shut too, but Peter shoulders into it hard and it opens just in time for Peter to throw himself through and slam the door shut behind him.

Peter leans against the closed door and tries to keep his breathing level. He listens carefully for the hum of the sensor, and sags when it passes. He thinks he can hear it hovering in a corner, though. So he needs to find another way out.

He can see a window, and that might be perfect -- except for the part where he's completely naked. Peter winces. Well, he's already broken and entered - what's a little thievery on top of that? He can always replace any clothes he steals later, when Mysterio isn't trying to make him swing his junk around New York.

Peter steps carefully over a pile of letters he only barely missed crushing in his escape, noting the name on them all is a carefully printed J. STORM, and one of them is a postcard written to JOHNNY. A quick glance around -- no safety features in the kitchen, one armchair pointed at a large TV screen, a calendar of pin-up girls hanging up over a large and new-looking couch -- tells him he's currently hiding in a bachelor pad of some sort. It's reassuring to know that if anyone comes in to find Peter intruding, it'll likely just be one person and not a whole family.

The apartment is relatively open plan, and Peter can see a corner of a bed, so he head's in that direction. It's a very large bed, and-- is that mirrors on the ceiling? This Johnny Storm guy's a player, then. Peter feels a little better about stealing from him. The rest of the bedroom furniture looks quite standard, and Peter resists the urge to do a victory dance when he sees the chest of drawers.

There is a drawer full of sweatpants and t-shirts -- the apartment's inhabited by the kind of guy who went to the gym, then, although the place smells much nicer than Peter would imagine was rented or owned by a regular gym bunny. He pulls out a pair of black pants and a loose white tshirt that are lurking at the bottom of the drawer, scrunched up, and puts them on, feeling better. Now at least if he's caught and arrested, at least he'll have clothes on.

Looking around, he sees a large window and heads over to it, peering out. There's smoke in the distance -- Mysterio taking his rage at not finding Spider-Man on some poor unsuspecting public building, most likely -- so if Peter can risk lying low for a little longer, it's probably for the best. He loiters near the window, carefully watching, looking for the tell-tale red flutter of Mysterio's favorite cloak (one day, Parker's going to torch it), and--

Later, Peter will realize that his spider-senses didn't alert him to the door opening because the guy coming through was in no way a threat to him. But when someone does clear their throat behind him, startling Peter, Peter's brain doesn't allow him any thinking space at all.

Peter turns on his heel automatically and his mouth drops open slackly, because not only has someone come into the apartment and seen him, the person that's come in, is, well. Possibly the hottest guy Peter's seen in real life. _Ever_ . Like, six foot tall, broad shoulders, artfully tousled blond hair, all-American white grin, and eyes which Peter can only describe as _beautiful._ Did Peter get hit on his head during his tussle with Mysterio? It might explain why his brain has suddenly stopped working.

"You're late," tall, blond and unbelievably attractive says.

"Uh," Peter manages, blinking a couple of times, because it sounds like the guy was somehow expecting him, "traffic?"

"Let me guess what kind of car you drive." The man closes the front door behind him and tosses a set of keys into a bowl before elegantly leaning against the wall He seems quite comfortable. Probably the _Johnny Storm_ named on his pile of post, then. The guy -- and Peter will have to mentally call him Johnny until he knows any better -- looks Peter up and down. "Something large enough for a pedal adaptation? I guess you earn enough to try and drive something _that_ big through New York, huh?"

"I don't--" Peter starts, and realizes Johnny's looking at his feet. "I took off my shoes."

"Ah," Johnny says, nodding. "That makes sense. Comfort and preparation and all that." He straightens and starts toeing off his sneakers. "The sofa okay?"

Johnny's not making much sense, but Peter tries to play along -- better to play along with someone potentially insane (it'd be such a pity, because Johnny Storm? _so. hot._ ) than intimate the truth (because Peter's not the best liar in the world) and be arrested.

"Whatever works for you," Peter says, slowly.

"Like you said in your emails, but I thought I'd double check," Johnny says, and slides a form-fitting leather jacket off, throwing it casually to one side. "But you didn't say in your emails what you drive."

Peter feels a little better. It's just a case of mistaken identity, then. That's better. Except, whomever Johnny's expecting might still turn up. "Because-- it's not important to what we're doing?"

Johnny heads towards his sofa, but looks back at Peter, and his grin makes him somehow even _more_ attractive. "I suppose not. But people call me the car whisperer. I can tell a lot about someone by the car they drive."

Peter opens his mouth to make some sort of excuse to escape, but then pauses, unable to help himself, " _People_ call you the car whisperer?"

"Well, _I_ call myself the car whisperer." Johnny shrugs elegantly. "A Prius?"

"Public transport."

Johnny pulls a face and Peter tries to be offended at his obvious disgust, but really, Johnny's just too attractive to even be mad at him. "I suppose being a cuddle therapist doesn't actually pay well then."

Peter has to resist the urge to try and clean his fingers out with his ears because-- No. No, he has to have heard that wrong, right? A cuddle therapist? Why the hockey puck would someone as attractive as Johnny Storm need to hire something as ridiculous as a _cuddle therapist?_ If Peter looked like Johnny and felt the need for a cuddle, he could probably walk out the door, click his fingers and get like, seventy volunteers within the space of a minute. Peter stares at Johnny. Maybe there's something wrong with him?

"It has its perks," Peter says slowly.

"I bet it does at that. I got the alarm like you suggested," Johnny says, sitting down on the edge of his large sofa like it's going to explode. "Well, it's set on my phone, but I disconnected it from the tower's wi-fi. You've got me alone for a full two hours, so cuddle me good, baby."

"Ah--good?" Peter says.

Johnny pats the couch. "We can use my bed if you prefer?"

Peter eyes the spot on the couch, and thinks about how close he is to the window. Why didn't he check to see if the window was an easy open? He eyes the door, and then eyes Johnny Storm, who's looking up at him expectantly. What if the _real_ cuddle therapist came in?

"Will anyone walk in on us?" Peter asks. "I require--"

"--perfect privacy, I remember," Johnny says, rolling his eyes. "No fret. I've got my-- well, he's not my brother-in-law yet, but the signs are pointing to I do. Well, _she_ do. I don't do, that's the problem, right?" He grimaces. "I activated the sensor program a couple of minutes ago. Thank goodness Sue let you in already, really. No one will bother us until I turn it off. Doors, windows, all closed. The floor's locked down too. No interruptions." He wrinkles his nose wryly. It's pretty cute. "You think I want it getting out that I can't be... y'know... _intimate_ with anyone? It's embarrassing. So yeah, we're not going to be disturbed by anyone."

"Great," Peter says, feeling queasy, because that must be why the sensor came down the hallway and stayed hovering.

Johnny translates his hesitation incorrectly. "Look, I get that sometimes you must have had some really bad smelling clients. But I swear, I smell great. I'd call up one of my thousand exes and get a reference for you, but we agreed it would be a step backwards."

"Yes," Peter says slowly, starting to walk towards the sofa and towards Johnny. "Yep." He sits down next to Johnny, also slowly, because this is just so... So _typical._ Johnny beams at him and promptly wraps his arms and legs around Peter, like a god-damned freaking octopus, lowering them both down so that Johnny's the big spoon and Peter's nestled in close like he's something special.

"Is this okay?" Johnny says. "I know you said we had to hold the same position, and I'm good like this, but if I have, like, an inappropriately placed elbow--"

"No," Peter says, "this is good," he adds, and-- well, he means it. Even though it's also bad. Because this isn't exactly a situation he can explain his way out of. And there's the hottest guy possibly in the whole world snuggling up to him, saying they're going to be cuddling for two hours?

Peter should explain. He really should. It's all an innocent mistake, really. He was just escaping a supervillain, and stumbled in here! Except then he would have to explain how he got into the building, and that would mean admitting to the Spider-Man thing, and nope, Peter's not telling that secret to someone he's just met, even if they are giving Peter the best cuddle he's ever had in his whole life.

Johnny's breath warms the back of his neck. "You were right in your emails, this does feel good," Johnny says, and Peter has to clamp down on a shiver, because he can feel Johnny's lips against the back of his neck, and if he's going to be impersonating a professional cuddle therapist he can't make the sound he kind of wants to make right now. Seriously, how did Johnny even mistake him for something like _that_ ? Peter doesn't think he gives off special _cuddle me_ vibes. Maybe he does. He'll ask MJ. Later. When he's not stuck with a hot guy draped all over him for _two hours_.

Ugh. This whole situation is just typical Parker luck.

#

Well, it's the best escape of Peter's superhero career so far, don't get him wrong. Johnny Storm does nothing but cuddle him for the two hours, then gives him a business card with what's apparently his new number, gives him an envelope stuffed with cash, and turns off the building security for a few minutes so that Peter can leave the building in a normal, human way and not Peter's usual exit from most places (aka, crawling upside down out of a window.)

It's surreal. Peter nearly forgets he's barefooted until he's wandered down a couple of sidewalks.

"See you next week," Johnny called as Peter left in a semi-daze. If Johnny had looked good at first sight, post-cuddle he's-- Well. Kind of magnificent, actually, all tousled hair and sleepy expression and the way his shirt got rumpled mid-cuddle so when he stood up there was a peek of a very attractively toned stomach and a trail of golden hair leading downwards that made Peter's mouth go dry very quickly-- Peter shivers. If the session had gone on any longer, Peter would have probably fallen asleep. Or proposed. Something like that.

There is absolutely no way that Peter's going to go back next week, Peter thinks, as he buys a cheap pair of sneakers with one of the ridiculous numbers of ten dollar bills now in his possession. Johnny's going to discover the mistake and then he'd arrest Peter if he turned up. That is absolutely what's going to happen.

So Peter obviously needs to cover his tracks, and _stat_. Yup. So when he gets home, that is absolutely the reason why he works to find Johnny's originally expected cuddle therapist. He's not going to do something sneaky like fire the original guy so Peter can continue to provide professional cuddles. Absolutely. Peter valiantly manages to think that as he boots up his decaying desktop and scrolls through Craigslist, looking for cuddle therapists. There are seventy-two in Manhattan alone. Peter winces, and reads the descriptions -- only fourteen mention confidentiality, which it sounds like Johnny would have wanted, so that narrows it down. Peter's decidedly male, and Johnny hadn't sounded surprised at that, so he cuts out the six female therapists on the list. Of the remaining eight, one has a YouTube channel that Peter bookmarks as it's an older guy explaning different cuddle positions (Peter watches it later and takes copious notes), and two have public Facebook profiles showing them astride mountain bikes -- Peter puts them on the list to check last.

It leaves him with a list of five. Peter takes the list down to a public phone box, and starts working through them.

He strikes it lucky on the third call. "Hi, this is Johnny Storm, Baxter Building -- we had an appointment scheduled --" There's a reply, and Peter resists the urge to cheer. "Ah, yes, you cancelled it? Yes. Yes, of course I got the message. I just-- wanted to cancel your services. Yes. Yes, I'm sorry. Thank you. I'll email or call if I change my mind. Appreciate it, bye."

Peter slams the phone down and breathes hard. Well, that's his tracks protected. If Johnny picks up the cancellation message, he'll probably just think it was a mistake and move on. And if he calls the therapist back, well-- Well, it's just--

Oh. Crud. Well, it's not Peter's problem, really, is it? Johnny just-- He's obviously well off. He probably has no problem finding company. He'll get over not having a cuddle therapist, that's clearly a ridiculous thing to need in your life.

But. Johnny did seem like he just obviously needed a really great hug. Obviously. And Peter's just ruined his first choice in therapist. It would only be the decent thing to do, wouldn't it, to go back and continue the therapy? Sure, Peter's not an actual professional, but Johnny had paid him (oh god so much money), and he hadn't complained. Peter would actually be a terrible person if he denied someone the decent hug that they needed, right? So really, going back there would be a public service.

Ugh. What the hell is Peter even thinking? Maybe Mysterio's costume-destroying chemical's done something to Peter's brain. Nope. This is ridiculous. He is not going back. He is totally not going back.

#

"Thanks for calling me," Johnny says in greeting as Peter opens the door. Peter smiles in reply and hopes valiantly like he doesn't look completely insane. Peter had bought a disposable cellphone with some of the cash Johnny had given him, but he'd put the rest into a charity box for veterans in deep shame at the realization of what he's doing. "The sofa okay?"

"Sure," Peter says, casually dropping his bag to one side and sliding his jacket off. He's in his own clothes now, a pair of rattier sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, and Johnny's copied him.

"A two hour alarm again?" Johnny asks, pulling out his phone and bringing up the alarm app.

"I have no other appointments today," Peter says. "It's up to you how long you need."

Johnny smiles, wide and warm. "I'll try two and a half for a start. Two felt way too short last time."

Peter agrees, thoroughly, but tries to say sagely, "Whatever works best for you, you're the client."

Johnny touches a panel on the wall, dimming the lights, and gestures at the sofa. Peter finds himself moving eagerly to sit down, and Johnny clambers gracefully onto it next to him, offering his arms out. Peter snuggles into them automatically, this time facing him and rolling onto him a little, pressing his chest casually against Johnny's and laying his head so he's tucked under Johnny's chin.

"You didn't respond to my e-mail," Johnny sighs, wrapping his arms around Peter and audibly sighing. "And why does cuddling my girlfriends feel like torture, but cuddling you is oddly satisfying?"

"Uh," Peter says. "My computer broke?" Yeah, that sounds like a plausible lie. "And-- I'm a professional?" he adds, even though he really doesn't feel very professional right now. Oh yeah. That's because he's an amateur, lying his head off. That would be why.

"Huh," Johnny says.

It's easier to say it in the dim light of Johnny's apartment, so he's not looking at Johnny's face (seriously it is like looking at the actual sun, what amazing thing did Johnny Storm do in his last life to deserve that, it must have been _incredible_ .) "Or maybe it's the _girl_ friend part?"

"Huh," Johnny says again. Then after a long pause, "You might be onto something."

Peter hums and falls quiet. It's _nice_ , that's the right word. Johnny's really warm. Like, so warm that it doesn't matter they're both clothed, Peter can feel the warmth seeping through their clothing. He wonders for a second what it would be like to lie skin-against-skin with Johnny --and oh, that's going _way_ too far. Impersonating a cuddle therapist is one thing, but trying to start something romantic off would be a moral step too far. Still, Johnny obviously needs this in his life -- he's part octopus, Peter thinks, limbs _everywhere_ , and if Johnny's so cuddle-deprived that he had to seek out a professional-- well, why can't it be Peter? He's always had to have a side-job to be able to afford to continue superheroing, so why not Cuddle Therapy?

Ugh, Peter's brain is doing somersaults trying to justify this weird weakness. It's just temporary. Cuddle therapists often only come into someone's life for a short time to cuddle the issues out of people. Johnny will never know Peter's a liar, and if he does, hey, there's over four million people in Manhattan on any given work day, so the chances of Johnny being able to track him down is infinitesimal. Plus, Peter's superpowers give him an escaping edge. And if Johnny meant him harm, Peter's spider-senses would kick in instantly.

Peter settles into the cuddle, reassured that this temporary insanity is probably not going to kill him, and, with Johnny's warmth surrounding him, he lets his mind wander away.

And jolts awake to Billy Joel crooning a demand not to be blamed for a bout of pyromania, _it was like that when he got there_ . Everything is warm and heavy and _safe_ , and Peter jolts a little, befuddled as to where he even is. Realization comes slowly and beautifully. Johnny makes a sound which Peter could so easily get addicted to and he leans over Peter to grab for his phone.

"Not today, Sue, I don't wanna go to school," Johnny mutters, smacking a large disconnect button before making another addictive noise and snuggling back into Peter. Just for a moment. Then, sadly, his brain comes back online. "Oh, man. That was the alarm."

"Yeah," Peter mutters, and forces himself to sit up slowly, because clinging onto Johnny would be _definitely_ selfish, and Peter's absolutely aiming for at least 50% of trying to do what Johnny Storm needs, rather than what Peter Parker wants. The fact that the Venn diagram for Johnny's needs and Peter's wants is basically a circle, well, Peter can't help that. It's difficult to get up, especially when he wants to snuggle into Johnny and stay forever, but that's just because he's so hot in all of the ways, so Peter forces himself to stand, even though he feels a little wobbly, and makes his way back over to his shoes and bags. As he gathers them up, dangling his shoes from his hands in order to maintain the fiction that he _likes_ going barefoot (and wasn't barefoot the last time they met because of supervillain shenanigans), he looks over his shoulder to where Johnny's sitting, disheveled and adorable, on the edge of the sofa and asks, "Same time next week?"

"Actually I was wondering what your diary was like," Johnny says, slowly. "See, my family and I-- we're doing this thing--- like, we thought we might and now we've decided to do it formally, even though we should have been doing it all along-- Anyway, you don't want to hear me ramble."

"It's okay," Peter says, because he kind of does want to hear Johnny ramble.

"The upshot is I'm gonna have less time to date, and much more stress in my life," Johnny says. "So I was wondering how Thursday and Saturdays would be for you, same rate?"

"Roughly the same time?" Peter asks, his voice going dry.

"If you have a slot for me," Johnny says.

No, he doesn't, because Peter's a liar and he's going to end this charade with a plausible sounding excuse while he still can.

"Of course," Peter says, automatically.

Yeah, he kinda needs to connect his brain to his mouth more often, but that need is hard to remember with Johnny smiling at him like that.

* * *

Part 2

 _Peter_  

* * *

"You said _what_ ?"   MJ stares at Peter like he's lost his mind. "Let me get this straight. Instead of saying, hey, I'm an impostor, I accidentally stumbled into your room on a tour of the building, I'm actually a really broke photographer, you said _oh hey I'm a cuddle therapist, let's get down and snuggle while I charge you crazy amounts of money_?"

"Not in those _exact_ words?" Peter winces.

"And how long has this been going on?" MJ's still staring in the same _Peter's insane_ manner. She's got a legitimate right to the expression.

"Five weeks?" Peter lies. It's been seven glorious weeks so far.

"So you've had _ten opportunities to put things right_?"

Whoops, Peter lied and said it was twice a week, and not the four times a week Johnny increased it to on the third week.

"He's got to be an idiot," MJ says.

" _Hey_ , don't insult my cuddle buddy."

"Seriously, if I'd wandered in, I could totally see where the mistake might happen," MJ said. "I'm put together. I'm _worldly_ . But you-- you're all over the place. The only thing in order in your entire life is your cereal cupboard, because you think it's hilarious to alphabetize them. How could anyone mistake you for a professional _anything_? Don't professionals have to, y'know, have it a little together?"

"Thank you, Mary Jane, for making me feel so much better about myself."

"I'm a better therapist than you," MJ sniffs. "Mull _that_ truth over in your pretty, befuddled head."

"It is pretty befuddled," Peter says, and makes an inelegant noise and buries his head in his arms.

"What _now_?"

"Are you regretting your subscription to the Daily Parker Show of Angst and Melodrama? Because it was a life commitment. You don't just buy a Parker for Christmas."

"Oh my god."

"It's just-- he's going away," Peter says, and sighs. "He's got this thing with his family to go to."

"Good! Then you can get some distance and get over your crazy."

"You think my crazy is something I can get over?" Peter asks, perking up.

"Not really, but hey, there's a first time for everything," MJ says. "Like you being mistaken for a functioning adult."

"Ha," Peter says. "There's also the-- thing."

"The _thing_?" MJ stops even pretending she's going to be able to finish drinking her cocktail in peace.

"The thing where all our cuddling turns into naps?" Peter says, his voice pitching upwards awkwardly. "And I kinda can't sleep without him?"

MJ stares. "No."

"What?"

"I'm saying no."

"I didn't ask you anything."

"You were gonna ask if I would be your cuddle substitute and _no,_ you are 300% arms and elbows. And before he left for this week thing-- he didn't have a clue you were, y'know, a massive giant faking faker?"

"He keeps inviting me back and paying me. So. I guess not."

"Huh," MJ says, thoughtfully. And then she narrows her eyes. "So you're not sleeping, huh?"

"Not really?"

"So the rumors are right then?"

"What rumors?"

"That the suspiciously Spider-Man shaped dent in my Akkaba eye-liner billboard outside Bronx Zoo -- that has nothing to do with, I don't know, a certain webby superhero with insomnia sleepily swinging into it?"

Peter squints. "I plead the fifth?"

"Good decision," MJ says, patting him on the shoulder. "So with this cushy, immoral job, does that mean you're going to pay the check?"

"Uh. I had a crisis of morality and donated it all to Boots on the Ground?"

"You're incorrigible and I don't know why I still love you."

"I'm a disease," Parker sighs. "I'm pretty sure."

"I still don't know how you've gotten away with it for so long," MJ says. "I love you but sleeping with you is like waking up half me, half pretzel."

"I do like pretzels." Peter squints. "You're not mad about the billboard incident that I may or may not have been involved in, and may or may not have sleepily crashed into?"

"Heh," MJ says. "It's funny, and I don't have to buff it out. So what are you gonna do with a week without your future husband?"

Peter makes a strangled noise. "Punch something?"

MJ snorts. "I'd like to see that. You? Punching something without falling over? _Ha._ "

"Yeah," Peter says, faintly. "Hilarious, right?"

#

Peter gets his punching request after four days Johnny-free, and it's perfect timing. And this thing with Johnny is so crazy that when the Sandman tries to make an army of dragons made out of sand to take over New York, it seems like just a regular Tuesday. Peter's ridiculously glad of the fight - it makes it easier to forget how many days it is until he can see Johnny again.

"Hey, bug, nice to see you join the ranks of the living," Wolverine barks during a short lull in the fight, and that is totally unfair, he only took a two-week break to remake his costume after Mysterio disintegrated his old one, and since then, Peter's been working flat-out for his Spider-Man duties. Insomnia is a pal. Peter's bed is so cold it's hard to sleep, so he's been out fighting - just not in the daylight hours he tends to meet Logan in. "I've got someone new for you to meet. The prof thinks you two will work well together."

"Doesn't hurt to try," Peter says cheerfully, webbing closer to Wolverine and dusting sand off his new costume.

"Spidey, this is the Human Torch. Torch, this is Spider-Man," Wolverine introduces. "He's one of the Fantastic Four, a new set of heroes on the block."

"Hi," the Human Torch says, and Peter extends a hand out automatically even though the Torch seems to be literally made out of flame, and thankfully he seems to be able to turn it off, because he does, and Peter's heart nearly stops. "I'm Johnny," the Human Torch says and grabs Peter's hand to shake it, and holy _shit_. So much for never running into Johnny in a normal setting. Peter's hand goes limp in Johnny's grip and Johnny looks confused and lets go, and it takes all of Peter's strength not to whine at the loss of contact. "Pleased to meet you."

Oh god, he's got it _bad_.

"Spider-Man," Peter mutters, trying to disguise his voice, and trying not to flip out.

Johnny's smile is still bright and even in direct daylight it's _burning_ . But then, apparently Johnny can turn himself into fire, and of course he can, he's ridiculously hot, _of course_ he can set himself on fire.

"Oh, god, I don't want to hear any of this," Wolverine moans, and Peter startles -- he said that out loud? Peter stares in mortification as Wolverine slaps Johnny on the back and dashes off, the fight rearing its ugly, sandy-dragony head in the distance again. "Good luck with this one, bub," Wolverine calls, nodding his head at Peter.

"Uh," Peter says, awkwardly.

"It's okay, you think I'm hot," Johnny says, pretending to swoon. "I can totally deal with that."

"Uh," Peter says, magnificently coherent. "We should--" He gestures at the dragons and Johnny nods.

"Flame on!" Johnny yells, and bursts into flame, speeding off through the air towards their foes.

Peter watches, denies that he's staring at Johnny's amazingly hot (literally!) ass, and then swings up to join him. If he's going insane, he might as well have fun doing it.

#

Peter tries to ignore Johnny as they fight, but the truth is, it's impossible, because they fight so well together. No wonder Johnny had been so cagey about explaining where he was going for a week. Peter vaguely remembers overhearing something about a new set of superheroes going off for a mission into space, so that's where Johnny's been - in space. With no one to cuddle him. It sounds tragic.

Or at least, Peter _hopes_ no one's been his cuddle substitute in space, because that sounds horrendous. Peter's the only one who knows how he likes to be held.

Peter's so busy angsting -- he's been a superhero for so long that the fighting part is automatic -- that he doesn't realize that the fight is turning sour. Seven of the Sandman's dragons turn towards them, growing, speeding at them, and it's creating some sort of sandstorm tornado that hurtles towards him and Johnny at superspeed.

"This way!" Johnny yells, flaming past Peter, and Peter follows, swinging after him as fast as he can, but the sandstorm's following, speeding up, and it's going to take them. Sand's everywhere and Peter can see a flash of Captain America's shield going past, the sharp slash of Wolverine's claws, a lightning bolt from Storm trying to shepherd the sandstorm away, and he thinks he sees a man turn into a giant shield to protect a woman in blue sending power blasts every which way and Peter thinks he's probably going to get hit when Johnny yells, "In here!" and forcibly tugs Peter with him.

Peter yelps and ends up with sand hurtling _through_ his mask into his mouth and he chokes, trying his best to spit it out, and a heavy warm familiar hand pats him on the back as Peter rolls up his mask just enough to cough the sand out. The small space they're in lights up, and Peter rolls his mask down quickly to see Johnny's right hand is aflame. Peter looks at him in the small space, and then does a double take.

"Are we in a dumpster?"

Johnny nods, his face still resolutely handsome even made out of angles and shadows in the dark. "I think it fell over in the storm," he says. "Are all supervillain attacks like this?"

"Sometimes they're even dangerous," Peter quips, and adjusts his position in order to look out, before realizing what's going on -- the space is so small, that Johnny is pressed around him, one arm braced above Peter against the dumpster wall. Almost like they're cuddling. Peter almost freezes, but he forces himself to focus on the chaos outside the dumpster. Peter recoils, because the sand's coming in and it stings, even through his costume. "So fire, huh, how did that happen?"

"A while ago, we got hit by a cosmic space storm," Johnny says.

"We?"

"There's four of us. My sister Sue got invisibility and forcefields. Reed, who took us up, he can stretch his body out like elastic. His best friend Ben's turned into this massive rock creature."

"I think I've seen him around," Peter says.

"Yeah, Ben embraced the superhero lifestyle before the rest of us did, but at least we're here now," Johnny says. "I guess he was less able to hide. How 'bout you?"

"I'm pretty good at hiding," Peter says. "Except when I end up in some ridiculous scrapes." Like hiding and accidentally being mistaken for a cuddle therapist, Peter thinks, hoping he's not speaking out loud this time.

"Yeah, I've read some of your press. The Bugle's not too fond of you, huh?"

Peter sighs. "Not particularly."

"I think we're going to be stuck in here for a while," Johnny says, peering out into the storm with a sour expression.

Peter reaches out with his senses, which all agree -- the sand outside is like glass. His stomach hurts when he thinks about any civilians caught outside in it. Hopefully the X-Men on scene managed to get them inside. He has to scooch backwards when the speed of the sandstorm picks up even more, and it causes Johnny to move his arm to accommodate him, and oh god, Parker luck, are they freaking _cuddling_? In the middle of a supervillain fight?

"Sorry," Johnny says, and even in the flickering flamelight, Peter can see a small blush on Johnny's face. "I can try and move?"

"No, it's fine," Peter says. "It's just temporary, right?"

"Yeah," Johnny says. "Although wow, we're basically cuddling. Who knew that would be the result of my first group superhero fight?"

"This isn't actually my first supervillain-related cuddling incident," Peter allows.

"Huh. Was he as hot as me?"

"Actually, you'd be surprised. He could compete."

"Now I'm disappointed," Johnny says, and Peter would fall over if there had been any space to fall over. As it is, he settles for blinking a lot in a row, feeling secure to do it because of the mask covering his surprise.

"Yeah?"

"Actually I am surprised,"Johnny says. "Because I'm kind of the worst cuddler you've ever met. Can you keep a secret?"

"Only two people know my identity; one's dead, one's in a mental asylum."

"Ooohkay. I, uh, I kind of hire a cuddle therapist. Don't laugh!"

"Believe me," Peter says. "I'm not laughing."

"See, I have this problem. I just-- I can't cuddle. I've lost literally all my previous relationships because of it. I just can't do it. But since seeing this therapist, I swear, he's magical. I think he's cured me."

"Yeah?" Peter says, trying his best not to perk up too much.

"Definitely. I mean, we're cuddling now, sorta?"

"Not the most usual definition, but-- yes?"

"See, I wouldn't have done that a couple of months ago. I'd rather be out there getting sliced by the storm."

"Being sliced by yourself?"

"Huh?" Johnny sounds confused. "Oh, my surname. Yeah. Ha. They said you were a joker."

"They?"

"Well, most of the supervillains we ran into earlier this week. This superhero lark is pretty exhausting, isn't it?"

"Especially when insomnia hits."

"You too, huh?"

"Mm. The glamor of dat superhero lifestyle, yo."

#

Peter replays their conversation on loop as he swings home, shedding sand everywhere as he goes. The storm subsided sooner than Peter might have liked, but that's par for the course with most supervillains; Johnny flamed out of the dumpster hollering, managing to set the remaining dragons on fire while Peter webbed them up and Storm came up with a rainstorm to dissolve them. There were a few civilians out, but a woman in blue seemed to be shielding them with energy -- probably the Sue that Johnny mentioned. After that, Peter skedaddled, not wanting to get roped into the clean up, and he ends up wishing that he hadn't.

Because he ends up picking up the message that Johnny's left him on his voicemail only a few minutes after it was left, and if Peter had stayed to help with the clean up, then he might have been able to live in blissful ignorance for a couple of hours more.

As it is, he comes home to his cellphone blinking, and JOHNNY (1) on the display, and he hurries to the phone in what can only be described as hopeful anticipation -- only for his stomach to sink when he calls his voicemail.

" _Hi, Bryan, this is Johnny. Johnny Storm? Your Monday, Thursday and Saturday 5 o'clock client? I tried to send you an e-mail and then I forgot you said your computer broke. I hope it's okay to do this via voicemail. I, uh, I think you cured me, dude, so-- as per our original discussion, I don't think I need you any more. It's been great! Thanks. Cuddle on, dude, I know those arms of yours are gonna save a whole bunch more of emotionally-repressed dudes across Manhattan and now you're free to do that, I guess. Thanks again, man. I think you saved my love life forever. Bye!"_

"Bye," Peter tells the empty air, his chest feeling funny. He yanks his mask off and sits in a heap in the middle of the floor. He's an idiot. He's an absolute _idiot_. He should be thrilled. He got away with the lie and didn't end up arrested. And hey, apparently he's going to see Johnny again, during superhero fights, so it's not like he's losing Johnny forever, is it?

He thinks of Johnny saying _Bryan,_ someone else's name, and everything hurts. It's so unfair. That's the real stinger of _Parker luck_. It lets you believe you're getting something good and bam, the world realizes you've done something wrong to get it, and so something good is stolen from right under you.

Peter stares at his phone, hating everything, but mostly, hating that it's a stolen emotion. He didn't deserve any of the good parts anyway. It was a lie. It was a beautiful lie. And now it's gone. Peter lies back on the carpet and stares up at the ceiling. He'll mourn tonight and tomorrow, he'll put his mask back on and go help people. It's all he knows what to do.

Peter's not a cuddle therapist. He's a lying liar who lies. And the charade is over. He throws his phone in a fit of pique and it slides down the back of the sofa, down to where things eternally got lost, but it doesn't matter, he only uses it for Johnny anyway. Peter wonders for a moment about what he'll do about being in love with Johnny, because that's the only explanation, that's the only reason why Peter's feeling the way he is. He knows this ache, although it's better and worse at the same time, because at least Johnny's alive.

He's alive, and that will have to be enough.

* * *

Part Three

_Johnny_

* * *

Sleep is elusive.

Johnny nearly reaches for his phone twenty times the first night. He puts his restlessness down to a week of superheroing, and the weird newness of using his powers for good and not the occasional prank (and occasional drink reheating.) He doesn't need Bryan the Cuddle Therapist. He's cured, dammit. The moment with Spider-Man in the sandstorm was proof enough.

He tosses, turns, and eventually has to put his phone in the freezer to stop himself from cracking and calling Bryan. The first few emails with Bryan had explained the process -- as soon as Johnny could connect with another human being outside of himself, then Johnny needed to stop the therapy, because getting attached to your therapist is totally normal.

It's totally normal to think constantly about Bryan in his arms, snuggling into Johnny's body, all warm and loose and relaxed. It's become normal for Johnny to only to be able to sleep once Bryan is asleep, his breaths slow and long, and Johnny takes care to match his breathing to Bryan's, until before he knows it he's asleep too.

And oh god, Johnny's been taking so much advantage of his therapist. Bryan said in their first email that their relationship would be strictly professional, that if either of them even temporarily mentally crossed that line, their professional relationship would have to end. It was halfway through their first session that Johnny kinda thought he'd crossed a line, but by the time the session had ended, Johnny had reasoned with himself that it was only a _little_ line, and how would the therapist know that Johnny was starting to, well, get a little addicted?

It's all over now. Johnny downed a litre of his semi-namesake and dialled Bryan with his fingers shaking; Sue found him a few minutes later and put him in the recovery position, stroking his hair and chiding him gently for freaking him out. Thankfully she thinks it's just Johnny being overwhelmed by all the superheroing, so she doesn't give him much of a hard time, just tells him to not be a stranger and to get it together.

He might slightly be annoying his team-mates, though. It's just insomnia, that's all. Johnny ends up trying all the remedies. De nada. He lies awake night after night and _pines_ for Bryan. His scent, like Bryan's got the wind of New York locked in his hair. His heartbeat, loud in Johnny's ears as Bryan sprawls across his chest, a heavy and reassuring weight. The way sometimes they woke up, and Bryan looked adorably disheveled, and for a moment, just a _moment,_ Johnny could pretend they were something personal, and not something as sad as a client _paying_ for something as wimpish as a hunger for some decent cuddling.

Johnny wonders for a moment whether it's not Bryan that he misses, just the cuddling part, so he tries a few options. The body pillow is a bust. He manages to hold hands with a girl from a local nightclub for about ten seconds before freaking out and managing to offend her in a record time (it's less than a minute before she powers a slap at him and stalks out of his apartment, for some reason stealing his body pillow as she goes.) Johnny even furtively purchases a full-body Spider-Man plushie, because he totally cuddled protectively with Spider-Man, so maybe something that looks like Spider-Man should work to kickstart his cuddling, and therefore his sleeping, skills back into full gear?

Everything is just so _wrong_. Even the other members of the Fantastic Four are actively avoiding him after a week of Johnny sulking and not sleeping.

"Whatever the hell's got your panties in a twist, sort it out," Ben snarls, after Johnny maybe sort of sets a hotdog cart on fire in frustration after a fight with a villain called Mysterio who for some reason blasts some sort of chemical onto Reed that leaves his brother-in-law buck-ass naked on the battlefield, which answered some questions that Johnny had _never_ wanted answering, and who the hell wants to make superheroes naked, anyway? Maybe the ones with a mask, but _Reed_?

Ugh, Johnny really did not need to know that _everything_ stretched.

#

Johnny manages to sleep a little, but it's not enough, he can't stop dreaming of Bryan, so coffee sounds like a great idea. He's halfway to his favorite hippie coffee shop when he realizes he's probably got a problem. Because he sees Bryan and it's like the world falls away.

Johnny's heart thumps instantly, and he speeds up, trying to keep up with him. What are the odds in him going out to clear Bryan from his head and then actually seeing him? Bryan looks really good, and--- oh, Johnny's kind of stalking him now, apparently. Johnny winces and nearly stumbles, and then ducks behind a newspaper vendor when Bryan stops by a sidewalk coffee cart and comes away with a coffee cup as big as Johnny's head.

Hope brims in Johnny's chest. Maybe Bryan's struggling with sleep as much as Johnny is? Or is that just wishful thinking? Bryan yawns and gulps at the coffee, still striding purposefully through the crowd, moving with confidence even though the sidewalk is packed with business people in sharp suits.

Bryan should be easy enough to follow, and it's plausible for Johnny to bump into him, isn't it? He can just casually pretend he happened to be where Bryan is, and see where it goes without it being super weird, right? Bryan's wearing casual clothes, a camera bouncing around his neck, and he stands out from all the people in workwear like a sore thumb.

So it's ridiculous when Bryan turns a corner into an alley, and Johnny casually follows, and the alley is completely empty. What? Johnny cautiously follows the alley down to a dead end, nervous that Bryan will jump out and demand to know why Johnny's stalking him, but there's nothing there but a couple of full dumpsters and an empty large coffee cup standing abandoned on top of one of the dumpsters.

Johnny touches the cup. It's still a little warm. Warm like Bryan.

How did Bryan get away from him so quickly?

It doesn't matter. It's a good thing. Johnny's being weird and awful, and following Bryan was a mistake. His chest aches a little. It's probably normal.

Johnny slinks back home, a maelstrom of different emotions. The whole thing's not a total bust; as he leaves the alley he at least he gets to see a comforting blur going overhead, Spider-Man's distinctive red and blue form swinging over the city. Johnny might not have sleep to look forward to at the moment, but he does have superheroing, and that will have to be enough.

#

It's not enough.

Superheroing is not fun while exhausted. Johnny gives in, writing a handful of long e-mails to Bryan. It's denial, really -- he knows if he calls, the chances of hearing Bryan reject him are phenomenal. And then when he gets no replies to his e-mails, he does give in and call -- but Bryan doesn't respond. It doesn't even go to voicemail. Johnny's stomach feels cold. Is Bryan okay? What if something happened to him? What if in the alley, Johnny didn't just somehow miss him -- what if Bryan was _kidnapped_? Mysterio's been on his superhero-spraying mission for weeks now, what if he found a way to make an entire person dissolve, disappear?

If sleep-deprived-Johnny was unbearable to live with, a panicking Johnny is apparently worse, because Sue snaps and tells Reed to do whatever he has to in order to stop Johnny's paranoia getting them all killed out on the battlefield, and Reed eventually gives in and hacks the location of Bryan's phone. It's an apartment out in Queens, and Johnny grabs the address and flees for it.

If it turns out Bryan's okay, then Johnny has a speech ready. He does. He's going to admit he's much too personally involved, and he's going to throw himself on Bryan's mercy and see what happens. He and Bryan had a real connection, they _did,_ and Johnny has to try and see if he has a chance. He _has_ to. When Bryan throws him out on his ass, well, that's what Johnny deserves. But at least he'll know for sure, right?

Johnny runs through his speech again, and then knocks firmly on Bryan's door in anticipation, thrumming with nerves and having to use all his strength not to burst into flame. He thinks he's ready to see Bryan again and to rationally suggest they continue their relationship, because he can't sleep without him, and he can't function without knowing he's okay, and that's got to be more than just professional relationship bonding, doesn't it?

There's a long moment, and then the door opens, and it's Bryan, his hair standing every which way, a worn pair of jogging pants riding low on his hips, a ratty t-shirt too big for him hanging almost to his knees, and Johnny opens his mouth to deliver his speech, to say he's glad Bryan's okay, but his mouth is suddenly so dry the words get stuck.

"Johnny," Bryan says, sounding like someone's smacked him with something large and heavy, and oh yeah, that's been one of the downsides to finally forming the Fantastic Four and using their powers for good, because Johnny's had heavy things thrown at his head more times in the past month than in his whole life, and it's got to be part of why he's losing his mind. "Are you okay?"

Johnny tries to speak, but he can't. He shakes his head and Bryan starts forward automatically, concern thick on his face, but Johnny shakes his head more, because if Bryan even touches him, he thinks he might be lost forever. _I need to cuddle with you again,_ Johnny repeats mentally, and he tries to get the words out, but all that comes out is a helpless sounding, "I need--"

Bryan's eyes go dark, and he looks like he's been smacked with something large and heavy too now, and then-- And Johnny doesn't even know who moved first, or if it's both of them, colliding together into something wonderful and real, and there are suddenly hands, everywhere, it's so clumsy. The kissing just feels obvious, like an extension of the cuddling, just a natural part of needing to be next to each other, of needing to be as close as humanly possible. Johnny surges forwards and Bryan backs up, and they both stumble into Bryan's small apartment, knocking something over in the process, and Johnny manages to kick the door shut behind them, and Johnny has never been less smooth in his whole life, never, but it doesn't matter because he missed this, he missed this _so much._

From the desperate way Bryan clings to him, murmuring encouragement like he doesn't even know he's doing it, Johnny finally realizes how very not alone he is.  

#

Johnny can't help but smile at Bryan, splayed out in the bed next to him. He looks younger, somehow, like a thousand tons of pressure has been lifted from him overnight, and Johnny feels a warmth in his chest, pride, that he's the one to have done that. Johnny's never felt so content before in his life. He wants to wake Bryan and tell him, but he also wants Bryan to keep sleeping, because it's obvious that he needed it as much as Johnny did.

He reclines in the bed, looking fondly down at Bryan, and then sighs, because as nice as it is, he's kind of bored. Bryan has a book by his bed, a biography of a photographer, and it's got lots of pictures but it's not really Johnny's speed, so he reaches carefully down to his abandoned pants and fishes out his phone. The signal's not great, but he manages to check his inbox, and everything's great as he scrolls through and deletes the spam, and then he smiles when he sees Bryan's name in his inbox.

Bryan managed to write him back, finally. Johnny clicks it open in giddy anticipation. They didn't manage to talk much last night, but maybe it's an e-mail full of returned sentiment, because Bryan _obviously_ feels the same way about Johnny that Johnny feels about him.

The e-mail is relatively short. "Hi Johnny, I'm afraid you've got the wrong e-mail address. We talked a couple months ago about working together on your issues, but you cancelled & I can only presume you meant this to go to another therapist. Sorry that it sounds like it hasn't worked out for you, call me if you want to try me, I'm much more suited for your intimacy issues than any of my local competitors, so if it's about rate, let's talk, I'm sure I can match it! Otherwise I just mostly wanted to let you know if you'd meant this to go to someone else, you reached the wrong person (don't worry, it happens to the best of us!) Bryan. :)"

Johnny frowns. The e-mail makes no sense at all. He scrolls up the message history -- Bryan is the only one he even contacted. So what the hell is going on? Johnny glances down at Bryan in his bed, his whole body feeling suddenly cold.

Johnny's a superhero now. Is this Bryan an impostor? Is there just two Bryans in Manhattan working as cuddle therapists and their wires have somehow impossibly got crossed? Or is the guy sleeping peacefully next to Johnny, who Johnny's dazedly pretty sure has just given him the night of his _life,_ a supervillain who's hacked Johnny's emails just to get close to him?

Fear makes Johnny's throat dry this time, not lust, and he carefully eases out of the bed, suddenly scared. Bryan -- or whoever he is -- he's had _weeks_ to kill Johnny if that was his intention. So Bryan doesn't mean to kill him, but what is it he wants? It doesn't take long for Johnny to find something that makes his heart feel impossibly brittle in his chest- a pile of post, overdue bills, all addressed to a PETER PARKER. That's not even one of the names of the other cuddle therapists that Johnny briefly considered before settling on Bryan.

In denial, Johnny roots around some more, and it's not just a mistake, not just someone else's post, because there's a framed masters degree on the wall from ESU in Advanced Biochemistry to Peter Parker, and a photograph stuck to the fridge of Bryan-- of _Peter_ with a beautiful redhead which has "Peter and MJ!" scrawled on the back, and Johnny finds an expired passport in the kitchen drawer for PETER PARKER, a much younger Bryan-- _Peter_ staring out at him, fragile-looking and so young.

Johnny's heart is pounding. Who the hell has he been cuddling with for the last two months? Who the heck is this Peter Parker guy? Everything is a horrible, terrible lie.

"Johnny, you okay?" Bryan's-- _Peter's_ \-- voice floats out, and for a moment, Johnny forgets his rage when a sleepy Peter stumbles out of the bedroom, adorably disheveled, and then it all floods back when Peter sees his old passport in Johnny's hands and his eyes widen in unmistakeable guilt.

"I can explain," Peter says, urgently, stepping forward with both hands outstretched.

"Don't come any closer," Johnny hisses. He's so mad at Peter, which is ridiculous, because he's spent so long being mad about the guy, and now everything feels sharp and bitter and _ruined_. "Who are you, huh? How the hell did you end up in my apartment two months ago? Why did you let me think you were someone else?"

Peter looks miserable, but Johnny's heart is too hard now, too filled with fury to be moved by it. "It's complicated," Peter says.

"Try and uncomplicate it," Johnny says, slamming the passport on the counter and flexing his hands into fists.

Peter swallows. "I was hiding, sort of. I never meant to-- it was just to keep me safe-- and then, I couldn't help it, I had to keep coming back, you needed me--"

"I _needed_ a trained professional, someone to help me with my problems, not a lying liar!" Johnny's hands burst into flames, because he can't help himself, and Peter flattens backwards, eyes wide and wet, but Johnny can't help himself, because even before the accident with the cosmic rays, he's always been a hothead. "You're an impostor. And a thief. What was it, huh, an amusing pay day? Poor rich boy can't figure out how to be intimate, might as well take his money and laugh at him behind his back for being so gullible." 

"I never laughed at you. _Never,_ " Peter says hotly, stepping forwards despite the flames, so maybe he's stupid as well as being a liar. "And I didn't spend the money," Peter says, "I felt guilty, I've been giving it to a veteran's charity--"

"That makes it so much better for _lying_?" The betrayal burns hotter than Johnny's hands.

"If you just let me _explain,_ " Peter says, sounding desperate, and looking as miserable as Johnny feels, but how is Johnny supposed to believe him? When he's been lying for so long?

"I thought your name was Bryan."

"I never said that," Peter says. "I never-- I didn't--" His face is twisted up. "I know what I did was wrong, but I-- we have a connection, and it stunned me, I didn't-- I never thought I could feel that way again, not about _anyone_ , and--"

"I don't care," Johnny hisses. "I don't want to hear this. You lied to me, Parker, if that _is_ your name. Who freaking knows who you are."

"I--" Peter tries, and then just sags. "I thought I knew."

"Well, I know," Johnny says. "You're a liar. And I never want to see you again."

Parker reacts like Johnny's actually slapped him full force around the face, and that's the image of him that Johnny flies off with, burning into flame and turning Parker's apartment door into matchsticks. It serves him right, Johnny thinks viciously, but it feels like a hollow period to finish this sentence of his life with.

#

The worst part of it all? Johnny still can't sleep. He even caves and hires Bryan, the _real_ Bryan, for a week and it's-- It's awkward as _hell_. Bryan is half a foot taller than Johnny and has a handlebar mustache that tickles Johnny's cheek. The cuddling feels just as wrong and awkward as cuddling ever has for Johnny. Johnny sighs. He's just damaged goods, and Peter cuddling him and it feeling good had been a fluke, that's all, and pining for his embrace, well, it's just messed up and annoying.

The next thing Johnny does is remember what Peter had said about donating the money. It doesn't make a difference about how he feels about being lied to, but he does feel guilty, because if Peter was at least truthful about that, there's a veteran's charity out there that was getting some pretty regular dough. After some careful prodding (okay, after blackmailing Reed to help him) he discovers it is true, Boots on the Ground NY had a weekly $660 donation in cash from an anonymous donor that disappeared from their records as soon as Johnny terminated the therapy sessions. Johnny, scowling, sets up the same amount as a direct debit. At least he's not feeling guilty now on top of the pining.

Except, he's _so tired._ He nearly gives him and calls Peter, but then steels himself because no. Peter Parker is not a cuddle option, nope, no way. Johnny fumes for a day, before remembering the alternative: the reason he even thought he was cured in the first place was that weird moment of cuddling Spider-Man in the middle of a sandstorm. Maybe Spider-Man would agree to be his new cuddle buddy? Superheroes tended to be lonely people at the best of times, and Spider-Man's been seen out and about so much recently that there's no way he has anyone at home. It probably won't hurt to ask him on a date, and it's not like Johnny is objectionable to look at.

The thought keeps him going for another couple of days until a triumphant battle with Mysterio where no one ends up naked, and Spider-Man cackles viciously as he smashes up the ray gun.

"Could have used it on him first," Johnny says, flaming up and hovering beside Spider-Man, smirking down at Mysterio.

"Whatever floats your boat," Spider-Man says, and then looks at him, and, seemingly as if realizing who his companion is, he flinches and looks away. "I gotta go," Spider-Man yells and thwips off.

Johnny watches him go, bewildered. Does he have a contagious-looking rash or something? Dang, there swings Johnny's back-up cuddle option.

Johnny sighs. Okay, Spider-Man apparently doesn't want to be anywhere near him for some bizarro reason. Maybe it's not as complicated as Johnny's making it out to be. Maybe Johnny simply just has a type when it comes to cuddling? Male. Decent muscles. Five foot ten, weighing about one seventy. Probably mid-twenties. Faint Queens twang to their voice. What are the odds for Johnny to find two people exactly like that in New York, so relatively close together?

He tries to figure it out, because he's probably a masochist. Odds might help, though - he needs to know what are the chances of finding someone else with the same stats. Probably good, in a place with so many people?

Reed could do the math quicker. Johnny eyeballs him speculatively.

"Good odds," Reed agrees. "Manhattan has a large pool of a population, and an increased number of men and women in the working age range. I'd have to run the numbers through my databases when we get home, cross reference it with the last census data, but I'd say you could meet someone else with those stats within, maybe, five months?"

Johnny's face falls. Five whole months? How's he supposed to sleep for five months without a new cuddle buddy? Peter Parker has _ruined_ him for _life_ , ugh.

"Of course, there's another option," Sue offers, "you said that one of them wore a mask?"

"Yeah?" Johnny says, slowly. "What does that--" He freezes. " _No_ ." Because there's a thought. Spider-Man had made reference to his name being Storm, when Wolverine only introduced him as Johnny. So how did he know? There's no way. No _way_.

Sue shrugs. "Just a theory."

#

Ben had been fighting with the Avengers on the other side of the city. When he comes home he finds Johnny on the couch, surrounded by a pile of pillows. He sighs, loudly. "What now?"

Johnny makes a wounded noise. "I'm living in a web of lies."

Ben's craggy face notches into a valley of confusion. "Wanna run that by me?"

Johnny huffs, but he kind of does, so he pats his mountain of pillows, all of which suck as cuddle buddies. Because none of them are Bry-- none of them are _Peter._ Peter Parker. Liar, liar, Johnny pants don't catch on fire. Ugh. "I think I've been cuddling Spider-Man," Johnny says.

"Uh," Ben says. "Should I get Sue?"

"She's the one that thought of it," Johnny says. "I should experiment, shouldn't I? To find out if it's true?"

"Experiment?"

"Y'know. Tactile style."

Ben snorts. "Or you could just ask him?"

Johnny eyeballs him. "Why do you hate fun?"

He starts to rearrange the pillows so he can get up. It's a plan. Johnny Storm is going to cuddle with Spider-Man and prove his theory, or he's going to die trying.

#

Spider-Man is awfully easy to tug into small spaces, at least.

"Oh, we need to hide," Johnny says, and for someone with nine entries on his imdb page, he's still a terrible actor. Oh, well. "We're gonna have to lay low for at least ten minutes, I reckon."

"Great," Spider-Man mutters. The more Johnny fights with him, the more he's been noticing that Spider-Man only mumbles around Johnny. But why would he have to disguise his voice, unless Johnny might be able to connect that voice to a face? When Johnny jams the door carefully shut, he looks back to see Spider-Man hunched into the corner, as physically far away from Johnny as he can get. Johnny's confidence is growing.

"Come on, Spidey," Johnny says, "there's hardly any room in here. Be a sharer."

Spider-Man's mask moves like he's scowling fiercely. "Couldn't you have found a larger room to hide from the-- whatever they are?"

"I think they're some sort of robot dinosaurs. Maybe." Johnny sits down and obnoxiously takes up too much space, spreading his knees more than he needs to. They're in some sort of broom closet, but that's okay, Johnny's totally willing to come out of the closet with Spider-Man if his theory is correct. It's much easier to contemplate forgiving Peter in the situation. The first time will have been a genuine accident, Johnny's looked up the dates, and their first meeting coincides with a report of Mysterio trialling his clothes-dissolving ray for the first time. It explains why Peter had no shoes the first time, and was wearing clothes that Johnny now recalls probably belonged to him. Johnny has to take a personal day when he pictures Peter crawling naked around the Baxter building vents.

Okay, all of this is really less of a theory, more that Johnny is pretty sure of things at this point. And can he really blame Peter for coming back? Johnny's super attractive. Can he blame Peter for wanting to get up on all his hotness? Really?

"This is ridiculous," Spider-Man says, muttering again, and reaching for the door, but Johnny's sealed it with a Reed-designed rig, designed to lock them in from the outside. The Avengers are out there battling the robot dinosaur things. Someone will find them. Eventually. "It's stuck."

"What?" Johnny says.

Spider-Man leans over Johnny and tugs on the door, muscles bunching together, and he scowls. "It's stuck. Can you burn it down?"

"Not without burning us up with it," Johnny lies.

Spider-Man makes an annoyed sound and throws himself backwards, but Johnny's sneaky, and arranges himself so that Spider-Man falls back into his arms. Ha. Peter lied to him for weeks, he totally has to forgive Johnny for one moment of manipulation, right? "Uh," Spider-Man says. "Do you mind?"

"Nope," Johnny says, cheerfully. "I could hug you if you'd like, if you'd be more comfortable."

"I'm fine," Spider-Man says, his whole body rigid and tense, pressed up against Johnny's.

"Aw, come on," Johnny says. "Just one cuddle, Peter. For old time's sake?"

Spider-Man, _Peter,_ huffs under his breath and half relaxes into Johnny-- before realizing. "Uh, what did you-- Did you call me Peter? I thought you said Spidey, not Peter. Who's Peter? I don't know any Peters," Peter finishes awkwardly, and compared to him, Johnny's acting skills are actually superb.

"Well, fine," Johnny says. "If you're not Peter, prove it."

"I don't have to--"

"I'm not going to believe you until you do."

"Do _what_?" Peter asks, panicked, forgetting to mask his voice.

"Cuddle me, baby," Johnny croons, "cuddle me hard."

There's a very awkward second, and then a second when Peter does try to cuddle Johnny like he's not himself, and it's an adorable effort, but as soon as he touches Johnny, he's lost. He pushes his mask into Johnny's shoulder and just clings and clings, and he's actually shaking, and Johnny's almost overwhelmed, because he knew his feelings for Peter were bordering on unreasonable and irrational, but he didn't realize Peter had feelings in return. It's kind of incredible.

Peter's shaking, and Johnny just holds him, and holds him, making shushing noises. "I missed you," Johnny whispers. "I was stupid to ever leave you. I'm never going to leave you again."

"Don't," Peter says, into Johnny's chest. "Please don't. Never again. I promise I won't pretend to be anyone else, ever again. Things have been awful without you."

"Things have been awful without _you_."

Peter makes a sound that's halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Are we really stuck in here?"

"Um," Johnny says, and his face falls. "I thought it would take longer to convince you to cuddle me, I didn't know you would fold like a cheap table."

Peter rolls his mask up far enough to give him a lost sort of look, and Johnny has to kiss him, because-- he's just gotta.

"We're actually stuck for a while, sorry," Johnny says, pulling away, but not far. "But at least I sort of have an idea of how we can spend the time until we get rescued?"

Peter narrows his eyes, but can't seem to come up with an argument.

#

And that's how the Avengers find the Human Torch and Spider-Man: asleep and cuddling in the small closet.

#

That night, Peter spins a web between two skyscrapers for them to lie and cuddle on and look over the city lights, and Johnny can't put into words how happy he is. He's even happy the next day when they get kicked out of his favorite furniture store. (The ban extends to the whole family, which makes Sue furious months later when she tries to buy a new bed and is ejected from the store, and she doesn't believe Johnny that he and Peter were only cuddling.)

Johnny logs onto Bryan-the-Actual-Cuddle-Therapist's new website and carefully leaves a 5 star review: "weirdest way to meet my future husband _ever_ " and then the following week he gets a restraining order from Bryan, which Johnny thinks is weird, until Ben points out that Bryan probably thought Johnny meant him, and not Spider-Man. Whatever. It's still totally worth it, especially when Peter reads the review, and his cheeks go as red as his costume, and he also doesn't say no, which Johnny thinks is the most important part.

And Johnny's cuddle problem? Totally obliterated. Peter's cured him. Sometimes Johnny's even able to cuddle his niece and nephew for a good twenty seconds before freaking out. It's all good. Screw that, it's _great._

And everyone tells Johnny that Shakespeare's supposed to be a genius, and he once said something like this: that wise men say embracing sour adversity is the wisest course. Shakespeare can't be as smart as all that, though, because adversity be damned -- it's cuddling with Spider-Man that has turned out to be the wisest thing Johnny's ever done.

Which probably says a lot, actually.


End file.
